


Devastation

by Aradellia



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst, Because I was so hopeful takumi would win..., Gen, Self-Hatred, time for hoshido brothers angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 16:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13252161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aradellia/pseuds/Aradellia
Summary: Everyone held their breath as the results were calculated, the first round of the new year voting gauntlet decided. Takumi stared up in disbelief at the board displaying the results to the entire army.Even in another world, in another place, he still could not best his brother on the field.





	Devastation

**Author's Note:**

> Do you like pain? Do you like to remember that Takumi has the biggest inferiority complex towards his siblings?
> 
> Guess who lost the first round?

Takumi didn't want to look around him.

He could hear their reactions, feel the heat of the room drop as it all settled, and the results scrolled out for all of them to see. Takumi had been hoping, praying, that he would pull through. He had worked so hard, been supported by so many who came to his side despite his opponent being his own brother. He had fought through horrendous and grueling battles against him in a painful back and forth where he was most at a disadvantage. So many supported him through it all, and in the last hours he finally was on even ground with his brother. Ryoma, the high prince, the older brother who had almost everything. He struggled in his shadow, lost in the glory of his brother's actions and words. Even though he was second in line for the throne, he was nothing compared to Ryoma. He was an afterthought.

The results were posted after grueling minutes passed by in silence. Flags were dropped in anger, some thrown in the air in celebration. Lissa made it through her round against Robin, a tough fight to be sure. Chrom, although hopeful, lost sadly to Tharja. Azura somehow pulled through and defeated Camilla.

"Takumi..."

He had lost.

Despite all his work, and all his support, he lost to his brother.

Staring at the numbers did nothing to change them.

He had lost. He had utterly lost... despite all the hope and prayers and flags thrown. He had lost it all in the last minutes of the round. He had failed all those who came to his side, who wished to see him go on. No amount of blinking back tears could change the results in the slightest. Nothing would change the fact that he had once again been overshadowed by his brother.

A hand touched his shoulder, an armored palm.

Without a moment's hesitation, he slapped it away, whirling around with his strike to see the pain in Ryoma's face. He watched the hurt evolve and turn Ryoma's worried expression into something he didn't want to see. It was pathetic. It was nothing more then pity for him, for his loss. It was just the cherry on top of this... this devastatingly embarrassing end of a gauntlet for him. He choked back the tears burning in his eyes, the trapped sob and snarl stuck in his throat, and barreled past Ryoma even as his brother shouted for him, grabbing for him again.

"GET AWAY!"

He slapped his brother away again, unable to stop his tears this time, only letting this crowd, this army, see his pain and hurt before running out of the arena, away from the gathered crowds and the boards announcing the winners and next round pairings. He didn't want to see his brother up there, so confidently beating him to pieces. He didn't want to see the recaps that would begin to circulate. He wanted none of it!

He stormed passed others with little regard. Even as people called out his name, thanked him for a job well done, he droned them out. He ripped his door open, slammed it shut, and promptly let out his anger, slamming whatever he could into the ground, smashing glass he had decorating the room. In the aftermath of his short rage, he knelt before the damage he caused, watching his reflection blur in the pieces of shattered glass as he keened, and finally let himself cry.

He knew he would regret letting his anger out like this. He knew he would hate himself for throwing things, for breaking things, but honestly he could care less as he knelt between the disaster he caused. All he could feel was the overwhelming reminder that he wasn't good enough, that no matter what he did and no matter how hard he tried, no matter who supported him, he could not escape the shadow of his brother. He was not any better then his brother, and he couldn't best him in any way.

No matter how he was brought up, no matter in what form he was summoned in into this world... he was the third prince of Hoshido.

Ryoma would always win. Corrin would always be more important. Hinoka was more missed then he was in this gauntlet. Sakura had more supporters, more love.

He didn't matter at all. It didn't matter if Ryoma even fit the theme of the gauntlet. Nothing mattered to any of them.

He would never win anything. 

He didn't matter.

The painful pressure and devastation in his chest hit its peak, and he let himself wail and scream. He let himself heave out his tears and let his grief and despair out as loudly as possible.

He didn't care if anyone heard.

It wasn't like anyone would come to comfort him. His brother's next round was next. His step sister's next round was next.

There was no celebration for the first ones out.

There was no pat on the back for a job well done. 

No one would care for one crying soldier anyway. People in this place cried all the time.

He would just be another background noise as the army gathered in the arena for the gauntlet once again, preparing to raise their gathered flags for the remaining four.

He was nothing to this place.

He was nothing to this army.

He was _ņ͉͎̻̞ǫ̥̞̖̻ͅt͕̯̜͉̫͢h̜̩̥̞̜i̦͚n̦̹g̮͕̙͔̩̟̬_.


End file.
